


Vir'nan

by Smuttine



Series: In an other world Vhenan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuttine/pseuds/Smuttine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ilyana is still looking for Solas and goes to Mythal's altar. She'll find there a hooded elf... oh my...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vir'nan

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the following of Absence from my work In an other world Vhenan.  
> Reading Absence first is a must so you can understand it better obviously...  
> A lot smutty than the previous one and I know some of you won't like the way it turned for the characters.  
> I wrote this fic in listening "The lost temple" from the soudtrack of DAI. This was my very inspiring music as I can feel magic and despair in it, wonders, secrets, darkness... and a beast chasing a prey at some stage...  
> You can listening it in loop here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEt2PMk0lVU  
> CAUTION: This text may be taken as a rape but it's not if you read it well.  
> Please feel free to comment :) It's usefull to keep going ^^

The summer comes to an end. Still not a single trace of Solas. Ilyana feels like she has scoured Thedas from east to west and from south to north, in vain. Today she is coming back to the temple of Mythal. Her memories might betray her, but she’s sure that he was hiding something from her about this place. Each time Morrigan mentioned the Goddess’ invocation, she saw some kind of furtive unease on his face. And what about their quarrels about Fen’harel’s omnipresence in a sanctuary devoted to the elves’ goddess of revenge ? This place was full of mystery which assuredly made the mage lose his temper. Maybe something worth exploring ?

She is getting deeper and deeper into the Arbor Wilds. Her long, green split tunic and her elven shoes makes her almost invisible in this dense forest. She remembers : the gnarled tree on the left, the thin brook watering the elfroots field, then the vine-covered ark opening on a strange clearing with the altar of Mythal in its center. She pads slowly towards the statue of the elven goddess. She remembers the surprise she felt when she met her avatar worn by the very body of Morrigan's mother… a… human… Only a few months have passed since her last visit, but something has changed. The luscious vegetation seems to have suffered somehow and crumbles on the polished stone. The vines that cloak Mythal have dried out. The flowers that usually made a carpet on the floor up to the monument have withered, and their wretched appearance leaves a chilling impression, as if something terrible had disturbed the place’s serenity. Trying with all her might to feel the evil that eats away the clearing, Ilyana does not feels the shadow creeping behind her. When a hand touches her shoulder, she shudders and turns around. Her heart suddenly stops beating. She throws herself in the arms of the hooded newcomer and kisses him gingerly until she gets her bearings back.

\- Andaran Atish’an, Inquisitor.  
\- A… Abelas ? I… am really sorry. I… I thought you were someone else.  
\- Are you looking for Solas ? He’s not here.  
\- …

Clothed with a great black keeper’s tunic open on his naked torso and a matching kilt, the fair-skined elf silently watches her like a marble statue. She should have thought so. Only Abelas would stay in this abandoned sanctuary. Puce with shame, Ilyana steps back, trying and failing to hold the temple keeper’s gaze, but he has a friendly, almost tragic smile. She hangs her head and grits her teeth to hold back her tears. With his abnormally thin hands, Abelas lifts up her face to look straight into her eyes :

\- Why hold back ? I know of the love you feel for him, and the kiss you gave me is but a confirmation.  
\- Crying won’t help me find him.

 

 

  
\- That’s true. And thus, I recognise the strong elf I met in Skyhold. But what about the one that found herself alone every night ?  
\- I beg your pardon ?  
\- Abelas is not a name that was given to me without a reason. I can feel every living person’s sadness. If I can get close enough to the afflicted, it takes shape in my thoughts in crystal-clear images. I felt your loneliness when you had to keep your distance, as the apostate ordered you to. I have then admired your abnegation, your composure, even if your body was starving.

Ilyana takes another step back and finds herself stuck between the altar and the mage. He makes a step too, and his face gets dangerously close to the inquisitor.

\- How many nights did you spend hoping he would join you in bed ?  
\- Enough !  
-But you can’t deny that you hoped, at least, to dream of him. Your bitterness was so… touching… that I could clearly see the caresses that haunted your mind, your need to feel the tip of his fingers going down your body, sliding under your dress…

While he speaks, Abelas traps the elf against the sacred altar and his hand plays with her hair while he adds :

\- What I see today is a drained, exhausted body, since if I’m not mistaken, he never touched you…

That is too much. Ilyana slaps the mage so he would keep his distance, but he grasps her hair and leans closer to her ear and whispers :

\- Though neither could he hide his tearing pain. He might have looked distant, but he felt a real desire for you, maybe much stronger than you would think.  
\- Stay back, Abelas, or I…  
\- Or what ? Don’t you want to know ? Even if you scoured the whole of Thedas trying to find him ?

The warden is now close to the inquisitor. He slips against her ear. His deep, hot breath makes her skin tingle. Fighting demons is something she knows. Closing a breach is now pretty elementary for her. But could she rebuke a friend who fought by her side ? And mostly, resist her need to know ? What if he told the truth ? If he knew what Solas really thinks of her ?

In a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation, Ilyana grasps Abelas’ hood, trying to make him step back, unveiling a half-bald skull adorned with a thick, translucent braid.

\- Enough ! You lie, I don’t know what you have in mind, but stop it ! You don’t know what Solas thinks of me and you never will !  
\- But I’m not here to torment you, Inquisitor, but to help you. His absence and the fact that you don’t know why he left are taking a toll on you. About his leaving, I can’t tell you anything. But what I can tell you is how much he thought about you. He did not spend a single night without dreaming of you lying next to him. How many times has he escaped to the other side of the Veil just to quench his lust ? But he could not help seeing you against his body, undoing one by one your tunic’s buttons, imagining the body that lays hidden under the cloth, the smell of your hair… The taste of your skin…

Abelas is more and more self-assured and, following his words, he unhooks Ilyana’s cape in a single gesture, letting it fall down on the altar. He buries his face in the inquisitor’s hair and, while his hand slides up her thigh up to her dress’ slit, he insists :

\- …Your taste…  
\- A… Abelas…  
\- I don’t answer to this name anymore, he said so himself, remember… Give me the one you fancy… I can give you an idea of what he had in mind, I can be him in a dream…

Ilyana feels herself weaken. Her body almost doesn’t belong to her any more. While Abelas lies her down on the warm stone, she gazes at this chest which lies on hers, more emaciated than ever, almost translucent under the sun’s last rays. But the sudden touch of his erect member through the fabric of her long black skirt makes her shiver one last time.

\- You’re lying ! Don’t use Solas to satiate your appetites !

Abelas presses his body against her, whispering :

\- I never meant to deny that, like him, I am… fascinated at the idea to see your focus dominated...

Those last words echoes in Ilyana’s head. Those very words that her lover told her during one of their first conversation in Haven. At that time, Abelas had not joined the Inquisition, which was still in its infancy, and Solas would never have shared their words with anyone. Feeling the inquisitor’s confusion, Abelas nibbles her ear, thus ripping from her a promising first sigh. Then, while brushing against her cheeks, he whispers again, his mouth a few inches away :

\- Let me ease your pain. Close your eyes and I’ll do my best to make you forget I’m not him. I swear, my gestures will be his. I am now only the one who wants to love you… The one you love…

As this sentence slowly dies in Ilyana’s mind, Abelas moves away from her, releasing his clutch, freeing her from his oppressing contact.

\- What… are you doing ? she asks, her eyes closed, torn between fear and desire.  
\- What Solas would have done : fleeing while hoping that you’ll take the lead.

The inquisitor then opens her eyes so she won’t back down. With a firm hand, she takes Abelas face and pulls him closer for another kiss. This new one is less assured, but has the intended effect. The mage pulls back again as if to revel in this touch, then rides her again, pinning her against the altar, ramming his tongue between her lips, which reminds Ilyana of this famous first kiss in the Fade. Quickly, the elf’s legs close around the guardian as if daring him to leave. Still kissing her tenderly, he slips a hand in the elf’s loose collar, opening it to unveil her bare bosom, tracing the nice curves of her small breast with a soft areola, stirring a moan from her lips. His other hand slides under the hem of her tunic and fondles her groin, his slender fingers going down curvaceous roads so finally he can open her left thigh, pinning her down, fully offered. Still whispering in an elven tongue so old that the inquisitor can’t understand a word, he creates a kind of mystical ring that merges with the altar, keeping this thigh stuck to the stone. Though she can’t understand what Abelas is saying, Ilyana thinks that she heard a few of those words in Solas' mouth. That’s why this bondage does not scare her, or even conforts her that she is in her lover’s arm, or at least wants to. Thus she offers no resistance when his captor’s other hand slowly creeps along her body in order to immobilize her other thigh in the same fashion. The mage pulls back again in order to gaze at this offered body. There does not seem to be any hint of unease in her cold and proud eyes. She has made her choice. She wants to know. She wants to feel his hands on her skin, feel him inside her, and find again the one that haunts her.

Once again he gets closer, his eyes still on hers, and slides the flap of her tunic behind her thigh, unveiling a thin, simple white panty. The tip of his fingers brushes the silk, first going down the lips to eventually follow her slit’s shape, teasing it in a very slow, very precise gesture. Then his index goes up the lingerie in order to pull off the fabric, pressing delicately on the shuddering inquisitor’s sex. When the thin fabric starts getting wet, reflecting her excitment, Abelas finally notices Ilyana’s vallaslin which fainty reappears on her face like thin ribbons shimmering to the rhythm of her breathing. Each times he makes the young elf vibrate, a faint but more and more bright light illuminates her face. This could become a game, but the mage has to stay focused, can’t let his own urges make him forget his assigned role, which might break a trust he took so much pain to gain. Nonetheless, the appearance of those tattoos confuses him. He can’t think about this right now, enthralled as he is by lust and fascination.

He should be careful though, because far away from there, another elf suddenly has a seizure. Panting, he lets his staff drop to the ground and falls down on his knees, his hands on the earth. His face tenses, he tries to stay calm, but a red light in his eyes betrays his anger. As if it could change anything, a word flutters out of his mouth like the death rattle of a dying beast :

\- Vhenan !

Abelas bends over his captive to kiss her neck. His lips slowly follow the trail of her carotid up to her pointy ear, which he greedily licks. The young inquisitor immediatly moans and arches her body, urging her lover to be more bold. She does not have to wait very long. While still mindful of her moans, the guardian plunges his fingers under the cloth, parting the flesh, finally intruding on her body. After a few skilled moves, a precious nectar flows along the elf’s thighs. He can’t help putting out his hand to get a few drops and put them on his tongue. She’s ready. He knows it. Without haste, he unhooks the folds of her long skirt which falls at his feet and, with an assured hand, strokes his shaft in order to get a few drops. Carefully he draws circles with the head on Ilyana’s vulva, mixing their fluids, turning over the opening of her thigh.

_Far from here, the elf is on the ground, shuddering violently. His fingers sink into the earth, his eyes become clouded…_

Abelas takes a deep breath, then pushes into the warm body, inticing a yelp of pleasure from the inquisitor.

_His muscles suddenly contract, his face loses shape, sharp fangs tear up his mouth which, with an inhuman scream, turns into a gaping maw. A desperate impulse urges him to get rid of his clothes fast while some seams are already yielding under the pressure of the growths distending the shape of this wretched creature. A thick black fur covers his skin while his pupils fully expand like embers multiplying in this mane darker than the night…_

Ilyana’s sighs are intensifying under the thrusts of the mage, always stronger, while he clutches her chest to tease her nipples between his long fingers.

_…The beast hardly catches her breast, smells the air and starts running wildly through the forest, breaking the branches, making the ground shake, finding little mammals suddenly stricken with fear…_

The inquisitor gives herself to pleasure and her hand begins to shine. Thin lightning bolts erupt between her fingers, breaking one of the magic seals pinning her to the altar. Instantly, Abelas takes hold of the freed leg and pins it against him, putting a knee on the altar so he can get even deeper inside Ilyana who moans again and again.

_…In his insane flight, the monster sees a fleeting orange light far away, like a will-o’-the-wisp, and he concentrates his attention on the phenomenon, eager to catch up with it..._

Feeling himself weaken, the mage puts his weight against the altar and his hand by the elf’s face. Pinching his lips as if trying to concentrate, he puts his forehead against hers. Both close their eyes while the cadence of their coupling intensifies.

_…Scraping the earth, hitting the trees, the misshapen wolf gets dangerously to his prey, who is steadily losing ground…_

The sighs become louder, the thrusts faster. The lovers scrounge a last kiss to shut down their growing pleasure.

_…With a tremendous roar, the monster plunges onto the poor creature…_

Ilyana’s mouth opens and she utters a cry, prelude to the end of this strange union.

\- Solas !

 

 

_…The bones rattle under the powerful jaws, blood mixes to drool…_

Abelas withdraws just in time to spread his seed on the shuddering body of the inquisitor. But at this very orgasmic moment, just like a flash of lightning striking down his soul, an image flashes in his mind : a ferocious wolf with too many red eyes, his maw open, ready to devour its enemy…

_…The beast falls down under the intoxication born of this useless hunt…_

 

The mage slowly dresses up, not without a last look for the panting elf spread on the altar. With a swift motion, he makes the last ring disappear, then turns away to leave the clearing, just when Ilyana gets her bearings :

\- Abelas, I… I’m sorry…  
\- Don’t be. I’m happy that this encounter did give you solace, if just for a moment, despite my reason for being there.  
\- I…  
\- Know that you don’t have to endure my burden, nor his.  
\- What do you mean ?

Abelas keeps mum for a moment, looking worried, lost in thoughts.

\- He is very close…

Ilyana gets up fast, looking for any sign of a third person. The mage has a somber smile :

\- Chances are we’ll never meet again, so keep in mind that whatever happens, you have my respect.  
\- Abelas !

The guardian takes a few steps and, while putting on his hood, adds :

\- One last time, my Lady, I don’t answer to this name any more. You can call me Vir’Nan…

With one last salute and a muffled sound, he disappears in a fadestep…

 

 

EPILOGUE

The sun is rising. An elf is lying on the ground. His muscles are sore and he has to force his eyes open. His naked body is splattered with blood that isn’t his. Bits of fur offer a last testimony to yesterday’s violence. As he tries to rise up, a seizure strikes him and he falls down on the hard ground, facing the body of the poor fox which was at the wrong place at the wrong moment. He puts his hand on the beast, begging a forgiveness he’ll never get. Tears flow on his cheeks and a sobbing rattle passes his lips while he shamefully curls himself into a ball.

\- Vhenan…

**Author's Note:**

> Two lovely (and nsfw) illustrations has been made by my great friend Needapotion.  
> You can find them here: http://tatakikick.tumblr.com/post/128480107231/needapotion-second-colored-sketch-commission  
> and here: http://tatakikick.tumblr.com/post/128205863326/tatakikick-here-is-the-first-commission-i-made
> 
> Enjoy!


End file.
